Betrothed to a Brutal Ruler, She Seeks A Way Out
Sent on a Mission to Barsoom, He Seeks His Family’s Respect
Everyone Else Better Hope They Never Meet
As the young daughter of a minor noble, Yilanda “Lannie” DelFino lived a sheltered life of ease and pleasure. So she was shocked to learn that life would end when her father announced that she would marry the daimyo of Orlov. Her unhappiness turned to terror when she learned her future husband was a brutal drunkard suspected of murdering his previous wife.
Lannie’s protests were ignored. Her father needed her bride price not only to rebuild his estate, but to get medical treatment for her sick mother. There was no other choice. The family’s future depended on Lannie marrying Rastislav Orlov in Barsoom.
Meanwhile, far in the northern horselands, Fenrick HighTower is tasked to ride south to the vast capital city of Barsoom to pay the demesne’s taxes and represent the family in the assembly. While it appears to be an honor, Fen knew it wasn’t. He was a necessary errand boy. As a younger son, he was the most expendable.
Unknowingly, Lannie and Fen embark on dangerous journeys creating waves that will ripple across the terraformed Mars and affect the lives of their families, allies, friends, and strangers. And when they encounter the fabulous Pearls of Orlov, it will awaken in them temptations they didn’t know existed: for wealth, power, and each other.
“The Vanished Pearls of Orlov” is the third book in Odessa Moon’s “Steppes of Mars” series set on a terraformed Mars.
Available now from Amazon.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Odessa Moon has at various times painted, sewed, served in the Navy, worked as a sales clerk and cashier, taken care of her family, and gardened with enthusiasm. Her house and garden are a piece of performance art; a meditation on time, change, and entropy. She reads extensively, particularly on subjects like medieval history, the class struggle, colonization, and resource depletion. While growing up, she read plenty of science-fiction and fantasy and wondered what the authors hand-waved away about how difficult it really would be to terraform another planet. She read plenty of romances and wondered where the characters’ relatives were and how they paid the bills. The series The Steppes of Mars is her attempt to combine all those interests.
When Ms. Moon is not writing, she improves the soil in her own garden and plants trees in her municipality. She recommends you do the same.
Visit Odessa at Peschel Press (www.peschelpress.com). If you want to learn more about her books, sign up for the Peschel Press newsletter.
EXCERPT
CHAPTER 1: Meet Yilanda Consuelo Margarita Ranaglia DelFino
Lannie’s dilemma
“I don’t care who he is! I will not marry that monster and that is final!” Lannie DelFino screamed. She was loud enough, she was happy to notice, that she set the dusty prisms on the chandelier tinkling, although her foot-stamping undoubtedly helped. Marble parquet floors made for good echoes as well as being cool underfoot in the heat.
“You will marry him. We need the money. Have you seen my gambling debts? Orlov has agreed to pay them off as your bride-price,” Albion DelFino retorted. Unfortunately, his only daughter, Yilanda, had never been the sweet, accommodating girl that her mother was. He sometimes wondered, in darker moments, if Yilanda was his daughter but he knew Constance. She would never cheat on her marriage vows although he felt no such compunctions.
“Why should I care?” Lannie snarled back. “They’re not my debts. You were the idiot, not me, betting on every stupid game that came along.”
Albion sighed deeply, brushing back a lock of his still jet-black hair from his high forehead. He caught a glimpse of himself in the enormous, ornate mirror gracing the reception room they were arguing in. His valet did an excellent job of covering the gray and he might tell him so in lieu of a raise. He was so good-looking and the mirror was large enough to reflect all of his glory. He loved this mirror which was one of the two reasons his particular branch of the family still owned it. The other reason was that it was far too large to sell without some officious relative noticing at once that it was gone.
“My dearest little daughter,” Albion said with a warm, creamy smile. “I’m not doing this for my benefit, although having my debts paid would be helpful. It’s actually your mother who truly concerns me.”
Lannie shut her mouth firmly on what she had been going to say.
“Oh?” she said instead. “What about mama?”
Albion sighed again, even deeper. “I don’t wish to distress you any further.”
Lannie chewed on her lip for a moment. Albion DelFino was probably lying, but even with a lifetime of experience of dealing with her father, she couldn’t tell. She studied her father for long moments, willing him to speak first so she’d have more information, information that might even be accurate. Fortunately, he was posing in front of the huge mirror so if he turned away, she’d still see at least some of his facial expressions reflected in it or its more accurate partner mirror on the opposing wall.
“I’m already distressed,” she settled on, since he was obstinately remaining silent. Speaking first meant he won the battle of wills but he could remain silent far longer than she could. He’d proved it often enough. “Please do continue.”
“Your dear mother wishes so much to see you happily wed and with the promise of grandchildren to come. You know she does.”
“Orlov won’t make me happy and he’s either sterile or genetically deficient,” Lannie snapped, back on safe ground.
“That is the fault of his previous wives,” Albion replied smoothly. “Genetically, you’re extremely far removed from him, unlike them. He is not sterile. The miscarriages prove it.”
“All right, Rastislav Orlov is not sterile. You are correct,” she replied smartly. “But he is genetically deficient because if he didn’t have bad genes, he’d have fathered at least one healthy baby by now. The man must be pushing fifty!”
“Which is why he needs you, my dear. You’re young and healthy, you have a sibling and many, many cousins. Since there are no problems with any of the DelFino or Ranaglia lines, he’ll be fertile with you.”
“That is a big ‘if’” Lannie said coldly. “As big as Phobos and Deimos combined. Now what about mama?”
Albion gazed nobly off into the middle distance, discreetly checking his stance in the mirror to ensure he looked his best and most trustworthy self. Its gold-framed partner on the other wall let him reposition his foot to best display himself, although that mirror’s glass suffered from a slight waviness making him look puffy around the middle. Damn, but he still looked good for his age.
“Your mother, well, she’s doing poorly,” he said after a suitable pause that he hoped would whet Lannie’s interest.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
Albion spun to stare at his daughter in consternation. “You hadn’t? Yilanda, I am disappointed in you.” He tsked in disbelief, looked very sad. “Well, she does such a good job of hiding it. She doesn’t want you to fret yourself.”
Mama never lied, or at least, Lannie had never caught her mother in a lie. She had to lie sometimes. Everybody did because you couldn’t possibly tell the truth about a good friend looking like some high-caste courtesan in her newest, gaspingly expensive outfit from Montaines. Well, almost everybody did. She never could because nervous giggles gave her away.
“What is wrong with Mama?” she asked carefully, trying not to sound overly worried. This was a familiar game. Her father would detect any nervousness and tell her some absurd, wildly exaggerated lie in response. She couldn’t encourage him, while at the same time, she needed to listen carefully to be quick with a smart response, keeping him off balance.
“It’s nothing, really,” Albion said, striving for just the right crack in his voice. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
His efforts paid off, when he saw his daughter’s eyes widen. Yilanda just wouldn’t instantly believe him the way her mother did. She was a constant trial. Fortunately, long practice had provided the skills needed to handle his daughter along with knowing the correct moment to deploy them. He kept these skills in reserve, using them only when it was critical and so his dear daughter never suspected a thing.
She gritted her teeth. “You really have to give me more details. You’re not, despite being my own dearest father, reliable.”
“Yilanda! You wound me!” Albion clutched at his heart, pantomiming tragedy. He should have been on the stage. What a career he would have enjoyed. His name would be known everywhere on Mars.
“You look like some ridiculous actor,” Lannie said, “over-emoting like last week’s ham. I don’t believe there is one thing wrong with mama. You’re lying again, trying to get me to say yes to that lecherous beast.”
“He is the daimyo of Orlov, Yilanda. That means you would be the daimyah.” Albion winked at her. “I’d be the father-in-law of a daimyo. Your own dear mama would become the mother-in-law of a daimyo.”
“So. What.” Lannie turned to march out of the entry hall.
“Marrying Orlov doesn’t just mean my debts. It also means medical care for your mama.”
She stopped dead and turned back to face her father very, very slowly. This was a lie, it had to be, but she couldn’t be sure. It was true that mama never wanted to cause trouble for anyone. She was so self-effacing, she practically vanished rather than draw attention to herself. Mama would never tell anyone that she was ill. She needed you to notice on your own.
“All right. I’ll bite. How does Orlov paying your gambling debts affect mama’s medical care? Assuming she actually needs some.”
“Yilanda. Your lack of faith –”
“Wounds you. So you’ve said on numerous occasions. The debts?”
Albion assumed a more hangdog pose, underlaid with deep regrets.
“The family is not being helpful. You know we’re the black sheep of the DelFino family.”
“Because of you, daddy dearest,” Lannie said sweetly. “You’ve never contributed so much as a bent copper penny to the greater good of DelFino despite numerous opportunities. Other than marrying a Ranaglia, that is, and spending every penny of mama’s dowry from them.”
“I am not the only member of our line at fault,” Albion said, with a flash of genuine emotion.
“Yes, let’s not forget your own dear, worthless father wasting away upstairs.”
“Your grandfather –”
“Blazed the trail to perdition that you’ve skipped down your entire life.”
Albion tossed his head back, showing off his noble profile. “Enough of this squabble. You want the truth? Here it is. Your mother has been ill. We’re not sure with what. I’ve, yes, it is true, wasted money like some drunken, low-caste, day-laborer. I’ve done nothing to help the family in running the demesne or anything else. And now, I’m being punished for it by my own family, by your own relatives. They won’t help pay for treatment for Constance in Barsoom. They claim every word out of my mouth is a lie.”
“Because it so often has been,” Lannie snapped. “What does that have to do with Orlov?”
“He needs a young, fertile, well-connected bride. He’ll not only pay off my debts as your bride-price, but he’ll pay for your mother’s treatment in Barsoom.”
“I see,” Lannie said. “I’m going to ask plenty of questions, you know.”
“You do that, but don’t waste any time going about it. Your mother is not recovering on her own.”
“Is that why you’re making this big push? You know I can’t legally marry until my eighteenth birthday.”
“I am well-aware of that fact, as is Orlov,” Albion replied. “He wants and needs a legal marriage.”
“He just wants a child-bride,” Lannie said and stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Eeuw. This is all so creepy and vile. He should marry someone his own age.”
“He cannot. Rastislav Orlov has his own problems. He doesn’t have a son. He needs a male heir desperately if his own direct line is to retain control of Orlov so a bride of his own age won’t work. Thus, you, Yilanda. Young, healthy, at least twelve degrees of consanguinity apart from him, and yet still supremely well-connected as a daimyah should be.”
“With no dowry, because you blew through mama’s which should have been mine.”
“You are your own dowry, my dear.”
Lannie thought hard, pursing her lips in a manner that made her father think of future, unattractive wrinkles. “Wanting a child is all very well. I understand that. But why does he have to keep control of Orlov? Doesn’t the family choose the best candidate for daimyo like DelFino does?”
Albion snickered. “Not that bunch. They prefer primogeniture.”
She made a face, inviting more aging wrinkles. “That’s insane, you know. The oldest son of the daimyo is never the best choice. When the family votes, like we do, we can keep out bad candidates, like you.”
Albion sighed again. “Sniping at me does not help your mother.
“Does Charlton know any of this?” Yilanda asked suspiciously. Charlton, regrettably, appeared to be following in their father’s and grandfather’s tracks. Their father railed all the time about how disappointing and stupid her brother was.
“Your brother does. In fact, he’s the one who discovered that Orlov needed a healthy fertile bride so badly and acted as a go-between.” Albion smiled winningly. “Your dear brother is very concerned about not only your dear mama’s wellbeing, but also that of you, dearest and only daughter.”
“By arranging my marriage with a geezer who’ve I’ve never met? How is that thinking of me?” Lannie demanded.
Albion rolled his eyes. “Daimyah, Yilanda. You would become the daimyah of Orlov. Wealthy, well-connected, profitable Orlov who is far above whatever your normal prospects would be.”
“I am a DelFino,” Lannie shot back. “People beg our family for marriage partners.”
“Well, my dear,” Albion said carefully. “Delightful as you are, that hasn’t been happening in your case.”
“I’m underage, daddy dearest, and will be for a few more months. That may have something to do with it. I also haven’t settled on any particular skill needed to run a demesne. That matters too,” she snapped. “I wouldn’t expect any matchmakers paying attention to me for another year or two at best.”
“This is true,” Albion said, conceding her the point. Yilanda was always easier to manipulate if she thought she was getting her way. And she was correct.
“And, daddy dearest,” Lannie added in her sweetest voice, “there’s you. Your behavior makes me and Charlton look bad. Speaking of Charlton, why aren’t you trying to arrange a marriage for him? He’s more than of age, yet none of the DelFino matchmakers have taken him on. Is it because responsible parents don’t want your son for their daughter?”
Albion gave his most superior smile to Yilanda. “We’re getting off track. Your mama’s care should be your main concern and not your brother’s marriage prospects. Your marriage to Orlov will solve so many issues. Our line’s debts, your mama’s medical care, an outstanding match for you, and yes, even your brother will benefit. Orlov will provide a bride for Charlton, bringing our two families even closer together.”
“What, someone from Orlov couldn’t do better than Charlton?”
“Charlton Ranaglia DelFino,” Albion said coldly. “One of the four greatest families in the Four Hundred, the four families that control the lands around Barsoom. Our family. The one you were just bragging about. Orlov, while a power to the east, has yet to have entrée into our quad. He wants it. We’ll give it to him and become the important part of DelFino that we were always meant to be.”
“You are delusional, mama is not ill, and I won’t marry that man to pay your gambling debts,” Lannie replied just as coldly. “I want proof and not from you or Charlton.”
She spun on her heel and marched out of the reception room, heading towards her mother’s sitting room. At this time of day, Constance Ranaglia DelFino should be there and, if she was lucky, her father hadn’t had time to work on her mother.
Albion watched in cold amusement as his only daughter stomped out of the reception room. She would ferret out the truth and then she’d discover she didn’t have any choice. It wasn’t only Constance’s needs that would be satisfied, along with his own. The daimyo of DelFino, his own fourth cousin Zachary, had already approved the match just as he had wholeheartedly approved of Charlton marrying some lucky Orlov princess. Marrying into Orlov, distasteful as that family was, meant better access to the markets of the eastern half of the Hot Zone. Orlov had wealth beyond measure, and would be wealthier still with the better management of DelFino subtly applied.
Orlov owned the Pearls of Orlov, the most valuable set of jewelry on Mars by an enormous margin. The Pearls of Orlov were worth more than a demesne. They were priceless and his dear daughter would get to wear them. And, if DelFino finessed the new relationship with Orlov correctly, a portion of those priceless pearls might become the Pearls of DelFino. Albion smiled at the mirror. Not every Pearl would become the Pearls of DelFino. A few, not enough to be noticed, would find their way into his own pockets. He could make it happen. His daughter, after all would be the daimyah of Orlov so he would become the natural intermediary between the demesnes.